Breakfast With Kitten
by electrakitty74
Summary: AN: This is a crossover from Breakfast on Pluto. In case you’re not one of the 6 people who saw Pluto, here are a few things about Kitten: She’s Irish, from a little town in the very northernmost part of South Ireland. She’s an incurable optimist, abl
1. Chapter 1

"Hey little Latin boy in drag, why're you crying?" The voice is higher even than hers, tinged with an accent she doesn't recognize. It's soft, lilting, musical, and the eyes which go with the voice are just as kind; bright blue, dark-lashed, set into the face of a beautiful middle-aged transvestite, so she decides to forgive the insult.

"M'not a boy in drag." Angel replies petulantly, dragging her hand across her eyes, drying her tears and smearing her eyeliner.

"Sorry, darling," the stranger says lightly. "I heard that line in a movie once and I've been dyin' to use it. How often will I get the chance?"

Angel finds herself smiling, in spite of herself, and looks again at the stranger, who is smiling sweetly back at her.

"Good, that's what I was hopin' for. Now why don't you tell your old auntie Kitten what you're doing here?"

"My papa kicked me out."

"Oh oh oh oh. That's no good, no good at all. My ma kicked me out too. Well I left. Saved her the trouble, I think. But that's been years ago, no good dwelling on that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well darling, what's in the past is in the past. No need worryin' on what you can't change, is there?"

"I guess not."

"How old are ya, angel?"

Angel draws back and eyes the older drag queen suspiciously.

"How'd you know my name?"

"I didn't. Is Angel your name? Oh. Why, it suits you. You've the face of an angel. So how old areya?"

"Seventeen."

"Ah, sweet seventeen. I remember seventeen. It wasn't all that sweet, I can tellya."

"No. It's not."

"Why'd yer da kick you out?"

Angel sweeps her hand over her body, indicating her wig, blouse, slacks, stiletto-heeled boots.

"Look at me."  
"Well, you're a touch underdressed, that's sure, but I don't see any need to kick you out on account of that. All you need are a few makeup tips and a new wardrobe and you'll be perfect."

"Who are you?"

"Ah. Where are my manners?" The older transvestite offers Angel her hand. "Patrick 'Patricia' Pussy Braden." Angel snickers a little. "Though in the States, I do go by 'Kitten' instead of 'Pussy.' Seems 'Pussy's' got a different meanin' here. Though it's not one I mind." Kitten's eyes sparkle mischievously. "And you are?"

"Angel Dumott-Schunard."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Schunard. Have you eaten?"

"No. I haven't got any money."  
"Ah, well, that's no good. A growing girl like you. Let me buy you some breakfast."

Angel recoils a little, knowing what usually comes after kindness from strange men.

"Hey, I don't . . ."

Kitten lays a gentle hand on Angel's arm, and looks sympathetically into her eyes.

"Of course not, darling. I don't expect you to. I just want to buy you some breakfast."


	2. Chapter 2

Kitten sips her coffee and watches with amusement as Angel shovels pancakes, eggs and bacon into her mouth, stopping only momentarily to drink some orange juice. Having led a similar life in the streets of London at the same age, she knows it might've been a long time since Angel has eaten a decent meal, so she doesn't interrupt, though she is eager to talk to the younger transsexual. Once she finishes eating, Angel leans back in her chair and hunts through her pockets. Finally, she comes up with a half-smoked cigarette. Sticking the butt into the corner of her mouth, she searches further, producing a beat-up disposable lighter. She flicks her dark eyes up to meet Kitten's blue ones.

"You mind?" Angel mumbles around the cigarette. In response, Kitten picks up a nearby ashtray and pushes it towards her. "Thanks." Angel tries three times to light the lighter, stopping each time to shake it. Finally, Kitten picks up a book of matches off the counter and lights the cigarette for Angel. "Thanks again," Angel mutters, the hint of a smile showing around the smoking butt in her mouth. She takes a drag and scissors the short cigarette between her first and second finger, exhaling and pausing to pick a bit of lint out of her mouth.

"So. Kitten. Where are you from? I can't place your accent."

"Tyreelin. It's in Ireland, darling."  
"Never heard of it."  
"Oh, you wouldn't've. It's a wee little town. No reason anyone should've heard of it. But I live in London now with my Charlie."

"Why are you here?"

"Charlie's always dreamed of New York. She wanted to walk down Broadway and see the lights."

"She?" Angel interrupts, shooting Kitten a look of utter disbelief. Kitten laughs lightly.

"Yes, she. We've been friends since we were children. We lived together for a while when Rosie was small. Now Charlie's a husband and Rosie's in university. I live in the flat across the hall from them."

"Who's Rosie?" Angel asks, finding herself interested in the stranger's life, quite in spite of her better judgment.

"Charlie's eldest daughter, darling. She's a little older than you are. Which brings me to an idea; Charlie's two youngest are here with us. We'll be here a couple of months and they don't know anyone, poor dears. I promised them I'd try to help them make some friends. Would you be interested?"

"Me? Hang out with Irish kids?" Angel sneers.  
"They're English, dear."  
"English, Irish, whatever." Angel stands, puts out her cigarette, and picks up her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder. "Look lady, thanks for the breakfast and all, but I don't need any of your help. I'm doing just fine on my own."

"Oh, I know you are, dear. I know just how you're doing." Kitten's voice is soft, but her meaning is clear.

"You . . ." It's on the tip of Angel's tongue to say 'You wouldn't understand,' but as she meets Kitten's eyes she realizes: This is the one person she's ever met who really _can_ understand. In Kitten's kind eyes she sees her own life mirrored and she knows that she understands everything she's been through, everything she will go through. She nods, slowly.

"Yeah. I would like to meet them."

Kitten pays the check and puts on her hat and sunglasses and the two of them head out together. She offers Angel her arm as the two stroll down the street. After a moment's hesitation, Angel slides her hand comfortably into the crook of Kitten's elbow. Kitten smiles to herself as she leads her new friend to her sublet in Brooklyn.


	3. Chapter 3

Three subway transfers later, Angel and Kitten arrive at Kitten's sublet apartment on Cleveland Street in Brooklyn. Angel can hardly believe that people live this far from the Bronx. It's certainly the furthest she has been from her neighborhood. Her stomach flutters. She is honestly nervous about what's to come. What has she done, going off with a total stranger? Her mother would . . . What did it matter what her mother would do if she knew? She has no mother any more. The thought causes her eyes to burn with tears of self-pity again. No, Angel. No more crying. Grow up. It's time. She straightens up, looks Kitten in the eye, and follows her up to their loft.

"Helloooo my darlings, I'm home!"  
"Auntie Kitten!" Before Kitten even takes her keys from the lock, a small girl of around six years old comes barreling down the hallway and attaches herself to Kitten's legs. "Hello, Munchkin." Kitten pries the child's arms from her legs and picks her up hugging and kissing her. After she's snuggled the little girl for a few moments, Kitten turns toward Angel. "Sophie," she addresses the child. "This is my new friend Angel. She's going to stay with us for a while."

Sophie gazes at Angel for a second then extends one tiny mocha-colored hand to her and smiles. "It's a pleasure to meet you Angel."

Angel forgets some of her nervousness as she shakes the child's hand and smiles in return, amused at the primness of her London accent and the formality of her greeting. "Nice to meet you too, Miss Sophie."

Kitten puts Sophie down. The child looks up at Angel "Would you like to see my room?"

It is Kitten who responds. "Later perhaps. We need to introduce Angel to Irwin and your mommy and daddy. Where are they?"

"Irwin's having a nap and mommy and daddy are out on a walk. They said they needed some time alone. Irwin was angry that they left him alone with me."

Kitten turns to Angel with a wry smile. "Irwin's fourteen and my, is he good at it. I'll just go wake him. Excuse me." She moves off down the hallway, knocking on the door at the end. "Irwin dear, wake up." Kitten opens the door and disappears into the boy's room.

Sophie has wandered off to the other side of the living room and found a pair of dolls. One is definitely a brown Raggedy Anne rag doll, but the other looks like Raggedy Andy wearing a sequined gown and feather boa. Angel is just taking this in as the door opens again and a small but lovely woman enters. She has wild dark ringlets, almost an Afro, mocha skin, and beautiful brown eyes, just like Sophie's. At the sight of her, Sophie drops her dolls and runs to leap into her mother's arms, but the woman's eyes are glued on Angel. Holding the child, she advances in a not-unfriendly way towards the newcomer. "Hello. Who are you?"

"This is Miss Angel, mommy. Auntie Kitten brought her here."

"Ah." She smiles. "I expected as much. I'm Charlie."

"Angel. Umm . . . Dumott-Schunard. Kitten said you could use some help with the kids."

"We could. Do you know anything about children?"

"Yes ma'am. I'm the oldest of six."

"My goodness that must be a busy household. We've got our hands full here with just these two." Charlie snuggles Sophie and tickles her, sending her into a fit of the giggles.

Just then, Kitten returns. "Charlie, darling! You're back." Kitten kisses her friend's cheek. "Will you get Irwin dear? He won't come out for me. I want to introduce him to my new friend Angel here and it's almost time for dinner."

"Sure." Charlie disappears down the hallway again, carrying Sophie and Kitten smiles at Angel.

"That boy," Kitten sighs. "He's as bitter as bat shit on a lemon-rind, as my ma used to say."

Angel laughs openly; the rest of her nerves forgotten.

Irwin finally emerges following his mother and little sister. He is dressed in a young teen's version of Piccadilly Circus fashion; black clothes, dark eyeliner, hair pressed flat and standing up in all directions. At the sight of Angel, he rolls his eyes and makes the most perfunctory greeting. "Hi. Can I go back to my room now?"

"No, Irwin." Charlie sounds a little exasperated "It's just about time for dinner and you need to be social for a while."

Irwin flops down on the couch with a sigh, right on to Sophie's Raggedy Andy doll. Sophie howls. "You just killed Audrey. Give her back to me!" Irwin pulls the doll from under him and tosses it at his little sister.

"It's a him," he mumbles as the doll hits Sophie, its feather boa flying off. "Actually, it's an it."

"Irwin, if Sophie says Audrey's a she, she's a she." Charlie warns her son. "Come wash up and help with dinner."

Irwin hauls himself ungraciously from the couch and follows his mother into the kitchen, dragging his feet as he goes.

"Now there's only Paul for you to meet. He's Charlie's husband. Come let me show you around." Kitten takes Angel's hand and shows her each room, telling her stories about the family. When they end up back at the kitchen, Kitten sticks her head in and asks Charlie about Paul's whereabouts.

"He stopped at the hardware store on the corner. He's struck up a friendship with the owner. I expect someone will have to go down there to get him before dinner."

"We'll go," Kitten volunteers. "Come on, Angel, darling."


End file.
